


Ranch AU

by userdylanobrien



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aaron is a precious bean and the best dad, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Hershel and Gracie are bestfriends/cousins, M/M, Paul and Daryl have commitment issues, Polyamory, Prostitution mentioned, The Boys are sipping on the I love Maggie Rhee juice this entire fic tbh, ratings to change/smut in later chapters probably but for now its just commitment issues and fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-09-18 05:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16988610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/userdylanobrien/pseuds/userdylanobrien
Summary: He knew zilch about farming or maintaining a homestead. But after hearing the plead in his friend’s voice, there was absolutely no other alternative to Paul than for him to quit his job as a martial arts instructor down at the local gym and to drive miles upon miles to the middle of nowhere to help out the woman he considered a sister.OrThe Jaaryl Ranch AU that no one asked for, but I needed.





	1. Chapter one - Paul

The interior of the car rattled against its frame as Paul travelled along the bumpy road.

Clenching his teeth at the vibration that racked through him, he rearranged his knuckled white grip on the steering wheel to keep the vehicle from going over the edge and into the gully as the road took a sharp bend.

Not for the first time in his life, this month or even this week, Paul asked himself:  _how the hell does Maggie do this?_

Maggie always carried herself with such strength and endurance; that much was evident to Paul when they first shared a dorm room in college, and now even more so with all that she has lost. She was able to keep moving forward in ways' that inspired him.

For a city boy, looking out at the rolling plains and harsh landscape which raised his friend, he knew he was completely out of his depth when even travelling down the rough terrain was foreign to him.

He knew zilch about farming or maintaining a homestead. But after hearing the plead in his friend’s voice, there was absolutely no other alternative to Paul than for him to quit his job as a martial arts instructor down at the local gym and to drive miles upon miles to the middle of nowhere to help out the woman he considered a sister.

He knew Maggie, the amount of pride must've had to swallow when she called asking for his help, meant that she was only hanging on a thread and he’d be damned if she lost anything else important to her ever again.

Especially if he could do anything about it.

“Shit” he hissed, hitting another pothole, the momentum knocking his sunglasses askew and over the bridge of his nose. He placed them on the top of his head, pushing back his long hair from his face and returning his full concentration to the road once more.

It wouldn't be appropriate to go on a tangent about helping Maggie save her farm if he wasn't even going to survive the trip in the first place.

Following the road over a small hill, he was able to make out the first signs of the farm in the distance.

_“Finally,”_ he sighed, before shouting “Ow!” as the car hit a large rock in the road making him hit his head against the roof.

\---

The rocks crunched under Paul's feet and dragged under the weight of his suitcase as he walked down the gravel road and towards the farmhouse.

The animals he saw on his short journey up to the homestead were strong and healthy, just like he could remember them being when Hershel Senior was alive. But of course with Maggie in charge, he shouldn't have believed otherwise.

A few of the animals who were left to roam freely came up to him, investigating his hands and looking for food.

One fat goose pecked at his shoes when he had to step over to avoid it's prying as it searched him with curiosity. And even the old donkey Fran, left her tree to come to nuzzle at him,  eeyoring happily as he stroked her mane before losing interest when she realized he didn’t have any carrots and trotted back over to her patch of shade to keep cool from the blazing sun.

He hoped it would rain soon.

\--

“Howdy Partner.” He called out when he found Maggie leaning against the frame of the porch, dressed in boots, jeans and a pale plaid shirt with a cowboy hat covering her short hair, getting the full and complete cowgirl look. Sitting upon her hip was her young son who was waving his pudgy arms in ecstatic greeting.

Paul waved his hand right back at him with just as much gleefulness.

Maggie did an over-the-top tip of her cowboy hat when he got closer, before dragging him into a one-armed bear hug. His arms came up around the both of them, closing his eyes he rested his head on her shoulder.

The feeling of belongingness and family and closeness overwhelmed him and he had the urge to pull back, but Maggie held on tight.

They stayed like that for a long time until he joked, “Couldn’t have helped me out with your guard goose?” Maggie let him go and threw her head back in laughter, her tired eyes shining with warmth.

“You gotta show him who’s boss if you’re gonna stick ‘round here, Jesus. It’s called a pecking order for a reason,”

“And it really does look like you’re sticking around for a while,” she said pointedly at his pile of suitcases stacked behind him. “Things didn’t work out with Alex?” she asked sympathetically, already knowing the answer.

“He told me that he was in love me and wanted me to move in with him. I said from the start that I wasn't looking for anything serious, and he just go had to pull this shit. So, I just panicked and avoided him for like a week. Then you called me called me yesterday and I took it as a sign to get the hell out of there...I even quit my job.” he explained, shaking his head.

“Oh Jesus," she chided softly, "you have to let yourself get close to people. To feel things.”

“I already have, you two. That's all I need,” he argued as he looked between the widow and her son. “Soooo, you are stuck with me now, just like you wanted.” he urged.

“I didn’t mean for you to pack up your entire life, _Paul._ ” she threw back at him, and there it was… the motherly tone and the  _Paul_ thrown in on the end.

Maggie saw him flinch and softened her voice, “I only meant for it to be temporary. Y’know, ‘till I got back on my feet.”

“Maggie, let me make this clear, you and Hershel are my life.” The silence between them was deafening, Paul looked up as Maggie blinked back tears, understanding the sincerity of his statement.

Sighing, he rubbed at his temple with his fingers. “Come on, this is too much emotion for me to deal with at 9 am.”

Maggie agreeing, silently took hold of one of his suitcases.

\--

Leaning against Maggie’s huge wooden desk, Paul watched as mother and son played together on the soft playmat in the centre of the room. It was littered with building blocks and plush toys.

The toddler bounced on his bottom in happiness, cooing as he grabbed onto one of his rainbow blocks to chew on before holding it out to share with his mother.

Maggie raised her eyebrows in mock surprise “Is this for me?” she asked, waiting for him to finish nodding his head in enthusiasm and 'mhming' before she leaning forward to pretend to bite at the block, imitating a munching sound.

This caused Hershel to squeal in delight and to reach for his mother’s face with his chubby arms, slobbery toy rested on one cheek while he attacked the other with sloppy kisses.

Maggie chuckled with happiness as she wrestled her son off her, nuzzling her nose along his own as she tickled her fingers under his exposed stomach.

The boy’s almond brown eyes crinkled with amusement at his mother’s antics. Reminding Paul of Glenn so vividly, that it almost physically hurt him, he couldn’t imagine how Maggie must feel when she saw him do this.

Placing one last kiss to her son, the mother slowly stood up and walked around her desk and dropped into the cushioned seat, lazily reaching for one of the papers which littered her desk.

Her tired eyes scanned the writing for a long moment, before sighing and putting it down as she placed her cheek on her hand.

“It’s funny. _He’s_ funny and he knows it.” she smiled a little-lopsided grin, watching her child play with the blocks.

Paul nodded at her comment in agreement and said “He’s just perfect. He really is, Maggie.” The sweet tenderness of the moment left him feeling warm and restless, he rubbed at his arms to release some of the energy.

“Yeah,” Maggie smiled and cheekily said. “I think I'll keep him.”

Looking down at the desk he was leant against, Paul saw folders and notepads piled on top of each other. Maggie’s usually neat writing was scribbled in black and red pen (the red pen being used more frequently).

Grabbing the chair, he also sat down with heaviness.

Paul frowned at the pages “I don’t understand,” he said after a long moment. “All of the animals seem as healthy as before? The crops are flourishing. The town relies on this farm for fresh produce, so it’s not a case of having no customers. Why is it such a struggle now?”

“Jesus, I appreciate all the faith you have in me but you have to understand that I am only one person and a mother on top of that. I can only be stretched so thin. The mortality rate of the lambs drastically declined last year because of the heatwave. I think that I’ll have to migrate the flock over to the lake to avoid it happening again instead of using the usual lambing paddock.” she scribbled in her booklet, scratching at it with her black pen.

“The farm needs these lambs, I need those sales.” her shoulders dropped “But I can not be in two places at once, because of the crops and animals I have here and because I obviously can't leave Hershel for days at a time.”

“Okay then, how do you suggest we deal with it?”

“People, we need people,” Maggie said, twirling the black pen in her finger as she looked back down at the paper.

“I have an idea for someone who has experience fixing the things that are falling apart ‘round here like the fencing and the barn. Plus he said he’d be alright learning how to do some harvesting and general farm work. You remember my friend Aaron, right?” Paul nodded.

Despite never meeting the man, Paul knew from late night conversations on the phone that he was a huge help to Maggie in the early days of her grief and someone that she could rely on, having gone through a similar situation when he lost his husband and was left raising his newly adopted daughter alone.

“The friend from your grief support group, right?” Maggie nodded to confirm his suspicions.

“But I thought you wanted to bring on people with actual farming experience? Isn’t he some sort of politician? At least I’ll move up on the rungs of the ladder, now being your second worst farmhand Rhee.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Rovia,” she replied cheekily. “He doesn't exactly have farming in his bones but from what I have seen over the years of him comin’ around and helping me out, he is pretty handy with a hammer. Anyways, he already agreed to it last night. He loves the fresh air and his daughter loves the horses and her playdates with Hershel.”

"But," she said sternly, pointing a finger at him "If you're gonna stay here too, I'll need your word that you won't mess around with him unless you're completely serious, okay heartbreaker. I don't think I can handle seeing sadness on his sweet face anymore."

"I think that you think that I am more promiscuous than what I actually am, and I take offence to that." He dramatically gasped. Maggie gave him a pointed look. "Okay, okay. I solemnly swear that I won't mess around with your friend _unless_ I am being completely serious," he promised, raising his hand as if he were to take a binding oath.

"Is he cute though?" he asked after a beat. Maggie groaned. "I'm Kidding, I'm kidding." he lied.

After a moment, she gave, "He's... tall." 

"Nice." he grinned.

Looking back at the notepads he asked “Okay, so we have your handyman. Who else do you need?”

“Well, I need someone who has experience with livestock and lambing and won't be afraid of roughing it up out there, keeping the newborns safe from coyotes.”

"You have coyotes here?” he asked incredulously.


	2. Chapter two- Daryl

Daryl’s days were filled with walking down the dusty country road and sticking his thumb out to passing trucks as they drove by him, his motorbike and mutt without a second glance.

Each vehicle that didn’t stop to offer him a ride sent a shiver of disappointment and embarrassment down his spine, but the worst part was that he wasn’t even surprised.

Hell, given the chance he probably wouldn't help him either. He was covered head to toe in muck and dirt after not having a proper shower in weeks, a fresh kill swayed against his belt and a crossbow slung over his shoulders. It just screamed trailer trash.

Something that, no matter how far he ran, he could never escape. It was tattoed on him. The same way the scars on his back were.   

He ran out of fuel a week back but couldn’t find it in himself to ditch his bike, even as his crossbow and sack of belongings hung heavily on his sleeveless shoulders while he pushed the motorbike against the rocky terrain.

Looking out from under his sweat-soaked hair, Daryl saw Dog trotting loyally beside him. The mutt, while energetic and happy, was looking a little too skinny for his liking. If he couldn’t find any more game soon he’d probably go without his share of the rabbit tonight, for the second night in a row, as much as his stomach begged him not to.

The hound was his only reason for living right now if he was being perfectly honest, and a bit of hunger was nothing he hadn't experienced before.

It wasn’t until Daryl neared the next bend of the road that he saw a sign saying ‘Welcome to Hilltop! Greene Family Farm, 5 miles.’

It was the first sign of life he had seen since passing the town. The locals hadn’t been too pleased to see him passing through back there, especially when he went around asking for work, they all kept a wary distance from him as if hick was something infectious.

But for the first time in so very long, he felt hopeful. Farms were always looking for an extra pair of hands to help out and all he needed in return was shelter, a hot meal and more than a cent to his name.   

It took him a while, but he soon neared the edge of the property. The sound of rolling thunder crackled overhead, “Looks like a storm is comin’ boy.” he told Dog, looking up at the darkening sky, earning a bark in reply.

By the time he reached the homestead, it was raining heavily drenching him and his dog. The lights were on in the house and he could make out two silhouetted persons sitting at a table, deep in conversation.

Too awkward to strut up to the house while it was late and there was a storm brewing, Daryl looked for shelter elsewhere for the night and saw a large, nearby barn which he suspected would be perfect.

Pushing on the latch, Daryl was able to open the barn door. The strong wind blowing the wood right out of his hands the second it was opened, smashing it against the panels and causing the horses to neigh nervously at the intrusion. Dog barked at the equines in reply, “Shhhh Pup.” Daryl hushed, dragging the bike inside before wrestling door closed.

The scent of the warm bodied animals and fresh-hay filled his nostrils as he pushed the bike to one of the empty stalls, where he set to picking up armfuls of straw and covering it until it could no longer be seen by prying eyes.

Looking up, he saw that there was a hayloft. “It’s a good place as any to rest m’head for the night” Daryl muttered to himself, as he hooked one arm around the middle of Dog’s underbelly and awkwardly made the climb up the ladder one-handed.

When they reached the top, Daryl saw that the hayloft was filled to the brim with...well, hay. It was mostly warm and dry, but every so often the wind would shutter at the wooden panels in the roof, the spits of rain would fly down to a metal trough below in unrhythmic splatters.  

There was no way for him to build a fire safely cook the meat up in such a flammable area, plus he was just too damn exhausted to cook in the first place, so instead, he just took out his sharp hunting knife and started to skin the rabbit.

When he was done he placed the pelt to the side and gave the animal to Dog to wolf down.

Daryl burrowed back into the hay trying to get comfortable, which was increasingly hard as the hay prickled against his skin. Pulling on his damp vest around his body, he curled around his few possessions protectively, chasing at the warmth.

It wasn’t until Dog was finished with his meal that he was able to finally rest. The mutt laid against his master, the wet dog smell barely even bothering him as he pushed his nose into the warm, damp fur of his companion’s neck.


	3. Chapter three- Aaron

“Hey, Gracie.” Aaron shook his daughter’s arm softly. “Sweetheart, we’re here.”

“Where, daddy?” The toddler yawned, as her chubby arms rubbed the sleep from her brilliantly blue eyes. “At Aunt Maggie’s farm, remember?” Aaron reminded her while he unclipped the harness from her carseat.

The little girl perked up immediately at the mention of her Aunt Maggie, wiggling to help her father with the clip she was sitting on. “Is Hershel here too?” she asked him excitedly, as he grabbed her under from under the arms to pull her through the door.

“I believe so, honey,” he told her, kissing her blonde curls and placing her on the ground, quickly grabbing hold of her hand before she could run off on her own, and down the gravel road without him. She was already pulling at him to follow.

“Guess I can do two more trips and come back to get those suitcases then, huh Grace?” The toddler just made a self-satisfied ‘mhmmm’ noise as she dragged her helpless father.

Aaron had a fun time steering his daughter away from every minor distraction which crossed their path, particularly when a flock of geese flapped their wings in fright as Gracie tried to chase after them screaming “chickens!” as if this was her first time being at the farm.  

Miraculously, despite the many detours, they reached the porch of the old farmhouse. Aaron was sure that Gracie was going to buzz right out of her skin from anticipation. The tall man had a huge smile on his face as he reached for the door, ready to knock. But as he raised his hand, the door swung open.

“-the butchers and post office. Okay got it, I shouldn’t be too lon- oof” the man, who was speaking to the person behind him, started to say until the words got punched out of him as he bumped head-on with Aaron’s chest.

The papers he was holding against his chest went flying.

Aaron quickly bent down to help grab at the papers before they flew off the porch and onto the still-wet-grass below. When all scooped up, Aaron was finally able to look at the man before him. Even though he was frazzled and slightly in shock, Aaron could easily admit to himself that he was beautiful.

The man was a far bit shorter than himself and was looking at him with wide blue-green doe eyes and a slack mouth, framed perfectly by a sculpted beard, one that immediately made Aaron chastised himself as he hadn’t even bothered to trim his own in weeks. But it was his hair that made Aaron label him as beautiful, the shoulder-length locks flowed behind him.

And -     

The cry of “Aunt Maggie!” is what broke the spell, Aaron over his assailant's shoulder to see the woman was leaning against the doorframe. The smirk stretched upon her lips made his ears heat as she looked between the two of them, realising that she had just witnessed the scene take place.

Like usual, it was his daughter that ended up being his saving grace as she flung herself at Maggie’s legs. His friend’s shocked face immediately transformed into a huge grin as bent down and pulled the girl into a big hug, “Hey hon, it’s good to see you. How are you?” she asked as she gave her a kiss on the cheek, earning only a giggle in response.

The warm feeling exploded in Aaron’s chest as he watched them fondly, before shaking his head and turning his face back to the man who bumped into him. “Hey, Hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt what whatever it is that you guys are doing.” he rushed out as he gently pushed the papers back into the other man’s hands.

“Good morning. My name is Aaron, I’m a friend of Maggie’s,” he said as he waved his hand like a dork, “and this is my daughter Gracie,” Aaron gestured to the toddler who was currently being mauled by kisses. “Say hi, Grace.” Gracie managed to choke out a small “Hi” before being sent on another spiral of giggles as Maggie blew a raspberry.

“Paul Rovia.” The man smiled, imitating the dorky wave the best he could with his hands wrapped around the papers. “But my friends like to call me Jesus.” Aaron could definitely see where the nickname had come from.

“Jesus it is then,” he said softly.

Maggie just snorted at his response, “Don’t be fooled by the hair and that fortune cookie nonsense, Aaron. He is a menace.” She held out her hands to cover half her mouth, loudly whispering:

“Trust me, if it wasn’t for all those flyers he was holding, you can best bet that he’d be doing the crucifixion pose with his arms all stretched out and everything.” Aaron chuckled gleefully, Jesus just rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her, not even bothering to deny it.

“So, what are all those flyers for?” he nodded at the papers, looking between them both.

“Maggie wants me to go into town and put them up, she is looking for more experienced farmhands to help with the sheep,” Jesus answered.

“Yeah, but all that can wait for the moment now that you’re here. We might as well get started on the work nice and early. I hope you brought your tools, Aaron. I can finally have that barn roof fixed, it has been drivin’ me crazy all week.” Maggie asked hopefully.

“Yeah, they are in the car. I can go grab them.”

Maggie shook her head, “No, no, no. Y’all had a long drive. Before we start anything, I think it’s best that I fix you and this little lady,” she huffed as she swung Gracie to her hip, “some grub. What do you say, Grace, you hungry?”

“Yeah!”

“Alrighty then, and by the time we’re finished eatin’, Hershel will be awake! He likes to sleep in, it's not very farmerlike now is it, Grace? It’s definitely something he got from his daddy, I’d like to think-” Maggie's voice trailed off as she walked further into the house leaving Aaron alone with Jesus.

“After you” Aaron leaned forward to open the screen door, Jesus just cocked his eyebrow at Aaron and his arms before nodding appreciatively and walked in after Maggie.

\--

With a full belly and his daughter occupied with her new playmate, Aaron walked to to his car to collect his toolbelt.

It was still pretty early in the morning, and the animals were still lazing about. He loved the smell of the fresh dewy air and total lack of noise besides the occasional moo or nicker, it gave him a sense of freedom that the city never did with all the people rushing about, and cars honking trying to get somewhere fast. Sure, Aaron loved being around people, comforting them, helping them, feeding off their excited energy, but at the same time, he liked to be alone and to feel like he was living in the moment instead rushing to be somewhere or something.

Right after he slammed the trunk shut, a voice said behind him, “So, you’re a builder huh?” the surprise presence made Aaron jump, barely being able to hold back an undignified shriek as he dropped his toolbelt.

A hand grasped over his beating heart he turned around to see Jesus standing there, eyes big and round with his arms clasped behind his back. A picture of innocence. Aaron squinted, studying his face, finding the other man’s lips doing a little twitch behind his beard as if he was holding back a shit-eating grin.

So this is what Maggie meant by him being a menace.

“Yeah, but it's more like a hobby nowadays.” He told him as he bent down to pick up the tools, his heart still racing over the fright.

“I guess that makes sense,” Jesus nodded, Aaron gave him a confused glance at that. “Maggie might have mentioned you once or twice, saying that you are a politician. I was surprised when I heard that you came out to help on the farm since y’know," he gestured vaguely at him with his hand,

"you don't really associate a politician with being a handyman.”

“Quit being a politician years ago. I wasn’t doing as much good as I wanted, I suppose.” Aaron grinned at his reasoning, "Years of college and good grades down the drain, my mother said as she yelled at me when I ended up joining a non-profit organisation in Liberia." 

"She was a very confused woman in all aspects. But hey, when I learned construction, it _did_ make me a little more manlier. Which I guess is what she wanted from me in the first place... I helped build houses and bridges which connected the communities together, helping them with trade and accesses to resources. It made me feel good to help them. And as it turns out, I am pretty great with my hands." he said, wiggling a gloved hand. 

Jesus was doing the same look at his fingers as he did with his arms before, Aaron blushed when he realised the implication of what he just said. He scratched at his curly head awkwardly, continuing his story,

“I uh, ended up coming back home after what happened to Eric... and to um, finalise the adoption of Gracie."

"Maggie told about all that and how we met right?” Jesus nodded sympathetically, rubbing a hand down Aaron’s other arm in comfort. Aaron welcomed the touch, he was finally able to talk about without it being too painful, but the awkwardness of the telling a stranger such a tragic part of his life was just too much.

“Anyways,” Aaron said quickly, “They suggested that I should continue doing construction as a way to take my mind off everything."

"And because Maggie and I became such fast friends, and she had a kid the same age as Grace: I started to come around alot to help babysit and do some odd jobs around the house.” The words flooded out of him, and he cringed.

“Long story short, Maggie gave me a call saying she needed more of my help and of course I agreed.”

"Well, I'm glad you are here to help out. You are going to be a real lifesaver to this farm Aaron." Paul said in a sincere tone, making Aaron's face blush crimson red.                           

 

 


	4. Chapter four - Paul

Maggie was exercising one of the horses in the bullpen when Paul went to look for her. Her movements moved and swayed with the animal so perfectly it was as if they were the same entity. It always fascinated Paul to watch the young woman entirely in her element while at home on the farm.

Crossing his arms over the railings, he watched as the powerful, sleek muscles rippled out from under the glossy black coat of the mare as she took long strides; cantering along the fenceline.     

Catching sight of him, Maggie brought the horse back down to a trot, “Whoa,” she said, patting the mare’s neck as she rode towards him.  “You and Aaron making friends?” Maggie greets on top of her steed, eyebrows raised inquisitively as she searched his face.       

“Yeah, he seems alright. Nice and all that jazz,” he answered, waving his hand nonchalantly to appear casual. “He  _ is  _ freakishly tall though.”

Maggie huffed out a laugh, “Maybe that's just you being freakishly short,” she jested, earning herself a groan. “ _ Maggie _ … we’re the same height.” Paul complained, earning  _ himself  _ an eye roll from his friend as she dismounted her horse,  “Not scaring him too much with all your sneakin’ around, I hope.” 

Paul felt his lips tug into a wide grin. “You should have seen him. He jumped so damn high.” Maggie shook her head good-naturedly, tsking at his antics. “Why,  _ Paul Rovia _ , you know how to impress all the boys.”

Gasping, he dramatically clutched his heart and said “Hey! Who said I was looking to impress him?” Maggie just gave him that look, the one that said that she didn’t believe any of his bullshit for one second. 

“Besides,” he waved his hand. “You already threatened me with bodily harm if I messed around with him. Don’t you remember?” He mimicked slicing his neck while gulping audibly. 

“Oh, I remember.”

“And he has a kid!” he suddenly blabbered out before could catch himself. Maggie raised her eyebrows in surprise at his outburst before edging him on, “Funny how that’s not a problem when it comes to Hershel.” 

“Yeah, because I’m cool uncle material. I get to experience all the fun things which revolve around kids without any of the actual responsibility, you can just... give them back after a while.” 

Maggie just huffed at his reasoning, “All I’m saying,” opening the gate and leading the equine through. “Is that you already have an awful lot of excuses lined up on why you shouldn’t date ‘im... you are definitely thinking about it.”

_ “Maggie” _ his voice carried weight, urging her to stop the teasing with just one word. “Okay, Okay. I’ll drop my attempt at matchmaking,” she promised with sincerity.  “You ready to clean up horseshit then, Mr. ‘I Have Commitment Issues’?”    

\--

“Would you be a doll, and grab a fresh bale from the hayloft?” she asked, reaching for a rake and preparing to clean the stall of its dirty straw. Nodding, he climbed the ladder only to become paralysed by fear at the sight before him, when he reached the top. 

There was a silhouetted figure which was shaped very similar to a coyote. Paul immediately recalled Maggie’s story from the night before, making him shiver at the sight of what looked like teeth gnawing and crunching at bones. Shaking his head he hastily scampered down the ladder.  

_ “Maggie! _ ” He hissed, jogging quietly as he could over to the stall that she was mucking out. “Maggie, there's a fricken coyote up there!” 

This earned him an over-the-shoulder smirk from the woman as she raked way the dirty hay. “Jesus, the day a coyote can climb a ladder is the day I eat my own hat.” Paul wondered if she could see the back of her head with that eye roll, “Now if you’re not too busy to collect the hay and quit this boy who cried coyote act I li-”

“Maggie,” he groaned, “I swear it’s not an act. There’s a coyote or a wolf or a do- there’s something up in those rafters, okay? It’s probably rabid, just come take a look.”

Maggie studied him for a moment, seeing that he was being serious.

“Okay.” she sighed, peeling off her work gloves and chucking them over the railings of the stall, reaching back to grab her handgun she kept in the holster in case of emergencies.

“Just in case it is rabid”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .


	5. Chapter five- Daryl

The sound of Dog’s barking slowly woke Daryl from his sleep; Groaning, he blindly reached out to grab the canine by the scruff of the neck to calm him while attempting to bury his face back into his prickly hay pillow for a few more hours of shut-eye.

It wasn't until the cocking of a gun and a feminine voice growled, “Get up now, hands behind ya head. And don’t even think about grabbing that crossbow or I will shoot,” that Daryl shot up, wide-eyed and confused and staring down the barrel of a gun.

Suddenly filled with adrenaline, Daryl turned his head around to take in the scene before him, shaking away the sleepy daze.

The voice and gun belonged to a young woman; her short, brunette hair steadily swayed as she raised her weapon at him, green eyes sharpened like steel as she took him in.

Behind her, there was a man poking his head up from the platform; he was in mid climb on the ladder with his mouth agape. His round blue-green eyes were bulging like a does would when caught in the headlights of a truck, his shoulder-length hair swung behind him.

There was a long pregnant pause between the three of them where no one dared to make a move. Dog had sensed the tension and stopped barking at once, he was looking back and forth between his master and the intruders with anticipation, tongue lolling and tail wagging nervously as he tried to gauge what was to happen next.

The tension was so thick in the barn that Daryl had a feeling that he could probably cut it with one of his hunting knives. The silence so deafening and prolonged that it felt like nothing could break it.

That thought was immediately disproven when a hammer fell from the ceiling and into the trough below, creating a comically large splash as it struck the overflowing water below.

“Um... hi?” Daryl looked above to see the voice belonging to a bearded man looking through the hole in the panels, his face painted a picture of shock.

“Aaron,” the woman called out, bringing Daryl’s focus back to her and the gun she carried, “I’m going to need you to go inside and watch the children.” pointedly, not taking her sharpened eyes off him for one moment. “Of course,” Aaron answered. Daryl listened as the man rushed to get off the roof, still in shock that he slept through the sounds him getting on top of the barn in the first place.

“Stand up with your hands behind your head and back up to those bales over there,” she signalled with a nod of her head over to the far side of the hayloft.

Daryl stood up with deliberately slow movements, placing his hands behind him as he jerkily crossed to the other end of the platform, his heart pounding against his ribcage.  
  
“Grab the crossbow and knife,” the brunette instructed the man behind her when Daryl was a good distance away from his supplies. The man immediately complied, darting up the rest of the ladder and rushing over to the crossbow and knife. Hesitating only when he realised that Dog was still standing near them, watching their every move with wary eyes.

“Uh...” he said nervously.

“S’okay, he won’t bite ya. He’s friendly.” Daryl somehow found himself gruffing out to reassure the man, his voice croaky with disuse. Those big round eyes were then set upon him for a long moment, searching his face for dishonesty.

Daryl for some reason felt heat rising to his cheeks while drowning in that sea-green gaze, but found himself refusing to look away even though he desperately wanted to, creating a silent stare down between the two of them.

It was the man who was the first to look away in the end, and to Daryl’s surprise, at his own strange disappointment. Seeming to trust Daryl at his word, he squatted down and held out a closed fist towards Dog to sniff, softly speaking to him, “Hey bud.”

The mutt shyly approached him and smelt his hand, licking his lips and tail wagging slowly. Finally, the dog pushed his head into the stranger's hand earning himself a scratch behind the ears, which in turn, turned his legs into jelly and tail-wagging into overdrive.  
  
“Your dad is right, you are friendly.” the man chuckled at the canine. “What is your name, huh, champ?” he asked, this time an eyebrow slyly raised at Daryl.

“Name’s Dog.”

The man not-so discreetly snorted behind his hand, sending a fresh wave of heat to Daryl’s cheeks. “Well, Dog. It’s nice to meet you.” he picked up one of Dog’s front paws to shake in greeting, “My name’s Paul but you can call me Jesus.”

Daryl scoffed the nickname, because really?

Paul faced him head-on after hearing his scoff, “You named your dog Dog.” more so stating than questioning, smirking impishly at him.

“Yer, and? S’better then callin’ ‘im Jesus…” Daryl defended himself, but without his usual heat.

“Are you sur-” Paul started, before the woman cut in; “Jesus, can we do this later? The crossbow, remember?” she reminded him, her weapon now lowered after watching the exchange but something about her eyes told Daryl not to test her.

One last pet to Dog’s flank and Paul picked up the weapon, making his way back over to his friend.

The woman sighed deeply and after a long moment, she leaned against a hay bale, gesturing Daryl to do the same. “What is your name?” she finally asked.

“Daryl.”

“Daryl, my name is Maggie Rhee and this is my farm. You realise that this is private property and you are trespassing, right?”

Daryl nodded guilty, not looking her in the eyes when he admitted softly, “M’just looking for a place to sleep for a moment, ma’am… and to...um, work,” he added. It was quiet for a moment, Daryl struck up the courage to look from under his scraggly hair. Maggie was looking at him with deep intensity, he felt that he was laid bare.

“What makes ya think,” she started slowly, “that you’ll find work out ‘ere?”

Daryl chewed at the hangnail on his thumb, shrugging his shoulders, he just reasoned, “s‘farm. Farms always need extra hands.” Maggie’s eyes were intrigued when she asked: “And have you had experience on a farm before.”

“Some, the uncle had one. Helped ‘em durin calvin season. Did some-” She cut him off, asking him intensely “Can you deliver lambs?”

Shrugging again, he answered, “Doubt it’ll be much different... so I guess yer.”

“What about coyotes?” she asked.  
“What ‘bout em?”

“Do they scare you? Could you handle them, if need be?”

Daryl just scoffed and rolled his eyes at her question, before quickly sobering up when she gave him a stern frown. “Yes ma’am, I can handle myself.”

Maggie and Paul shared a long look at one another, Paul nodded slightly and Maggie just rubbed her eye with her palm of her hand.

Sighing, she finally admitted, “I don’t have the money to pay you much… but what I can give you is new clothes and work gear, a safe place for you rest your head and a full stomach… but you need to work for it, everyone around here has jobs to do.”

Knowing this is the best offer he’d receive in some time...well decent hard-working money, that wasn’t crumbled bills outside a sketchy truckstop… he immediately nodded.

“One more thing,” she said raising her finger, bringing him to a halt in his nodding, “I can’t let you stay in the house though, I have children that I need to think of.”

Daryl wholeheartedly understood her reasoning, but it still sent a shiver of embarrassment down his spine, that she’d consider him capable of bringing harm to her children. Not wanting her to see the hurt in his eyes, he looked down at the ground and gruffed out, “Give me a tent and I’ll be fine. I know how to make a fire to keep warm.”

It was a long silence like she was considering it.

“Maggie,” Paul pleaded on his behalf. Maggie sighed deeply, “No, you are working for me, I promised you a warm bed and you’ll have it. There’s an old trailer that you can have...”

It seemed to Daryl, that he was never going to outrun the trailers.


	6. Chapter six- Aaron

“Grace, can you find me the...” Aaron asked with an exaggerated hmm, as he tapped at his bearded chin, scanning the page of brightly colored, cartoon farm animals before spotting a grey-blue image in the top right corner, “donkey?” putting his finger up in the air as he decided cheerfully.

His daughter, who was laying on the pillow next to him, creased her brows and pouted her lips, in a way which mimicked his own when in deep concentration. “There!” she cried after a moment, correctly pointing to the donkey, “She looks just like Fran.” Gracie beamed. “She sure does,” he smiled at her infectious toothy grin.

“Hershel,” he playfully jostled the little body on the other side of the pillow, “Can you tell me what sound a donkey makes?” the boy excitedly mimicked a donkeys eeyore with such flair that it sent both Aaron and Gracie into an array of giggles.

The fun was interrupted, however, when Aaron heard the knob of the front door turn. Instantaneously he remembered the vagabond in the barn and Maggie’s words of “Protect the children,” echoing in this mind.

“Shhh,” he hushed sharply, a twin pair of tiny heads turned to look at him, both gawked with at him with a mix of confusion and shock at the seriousness of his tone. “Daddy-” Gracie began to ask but Aaron cut her off, whispering softly, “We have to be quiet, okay?”

Aaron pushed himself up from the bed and climbed over Gracie, finger to his lips. He scanned the room, frantically looking for something to defend himself with. His wide eyes landed on the lamp on the bedside, reaching over he tugged on the cord from the socket as quietly as possible and wrapped it around his hand, His heart beating wildly in his chest, he took off the plastic shade, gripping onto the metal base like a lifeline.

Aaron crept across the wooden boards to where the door was, mindful to distribute his weight evenly so that they won’t creak. Once he reached the door, he pressed his back against the wall, raising the metal base of the lamp so he was ready to swing at the intruder. His palms felt clammy around the lamp as he tightened them so they were knuckle-white.

Sparing one quick look at the bed; Aaron saw the children nestled deep into the covers with only their heads showing, Grace’s bright blue eyes were enlarged and watery and Hershel’s lip was quivering as he quietly whimpered. Aaron raised his pointer finger to his lips, gesturing for them to keep quiet. Nodding, Gracie threw the covers over their tiny forms.

Ear to the door, Aaron heard footsteps approaching ever so slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up straight. The knob rattled against the locked door and he could see the shadows of the person move between the gap.

“Aaron?” the person called out on the other side, voice slightly muffled by the door. “Aaron are you in there?” It took Aaron a moment to recognize who the voice belonged to but once he did, the relief he felt was instantaneous.

Unlatching and throwing open the door, Aaron stood face to face with Jesus. Aaron wildly shook the lamp base at him, voice several octaves higher, exclaiming “I could have killed you!” Jesus raised his eyebrows at his outburst in surprise, “Killed me? With… a lamp?” he asked bewildered. “Yes!” Aaron’s face heated.

“Daddy!” “Jesus!” The kids cried out as they ran out of the room, Aaron dropped the metal base on the ground with a loud thunk, scooping his daughter up in his arms and holding her tight.

“I can teach you a few moves later, so that know how you can properly defend yourself... if you’d like?” Jesus offered after a moment, watching the two, rubbing his own hand in circles down Hershel’s back to soothe him. Aaron frowned at this, Jesus just chuckled at his confusion, “I used to be a martial arts instructor down at my gym,” he explained.

“Yeah? I’d really like that.” Aaron smiled gratefully at the man over Gracie’s head. Jesus beamed right back at him while Hershel strangled his legs like an octopus.

“Where’s Maggie?” Aaron asked, suddenly spinning around and searching the room, finding that he couldn’t see the woman anywhere.

“She’s getting the drifter settled in.”

“Wait, what?”

\---

“-looked like an absolute wreck, he was so skinny, almost like a gust of wind could knock him over without a moment’s notice,” Jesus explained to Aaron when they were all sitting around in the living room; Hershel was wiped out and cradled to Maggie’s chest and Gracie’s had her head rested in Aaron’s lap, hair idly being played with.“and he didn’t look like had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

“Why’s he working here then?” Aaron asked befuddled. “He knows his way around a farm and has experience with birthing animals,” Jesus clarified for him.

“Aaron, I’m really sorry that I didn’t ask your opinion on this. It isn’t just Hershel’s safety that I have to consider when having a stranger work for me.” Maggie finally spoke up, kissing the head of her sleeping son.

“Maggie,” he sighed, “I am not mad, I trust your judgement. But if something like this happens again, I’d like to be at least asked, okay?” She nodded.

“But I would like to meet the guy for myself if that would be alright?”

“Of course, at the moment he’s settling to the trailer but tomorrow he agreed to start on the fences. You can help him with that if you want?”

“I’d actually like to meet him before then.”  
\---

Aaron knocked on the trailer door, hand already out and holding up the Tupperware full sandwiches like it was some sort of peace treaty. He heard a muffled shout of “Hold on!” on the other side of the door, followed quickly by a clumsy banging.

The trailer door was flung open revealing the man. Daryl, he recalled, looked at Aaron with puzzlement. “Who are you?” he asked bluntly.

“Hi I am Aaron,” he waved, “I’m here helping out Maggie for a few months. I actually saw you the other day, in the barn.” Daryl just stared at him, waiting for him to continue. “You know, the guy on the roof.”

“Roof Guy,” Daryl repeated, familiarity filling his voice. “Yeah, Roof Guy,” Aaron made an embarrassed chuckle at the nickname, scratching at his beard.

“Look, uh... I made you something to eat.”

The man was clearly fresh out of the shower, his skin and hair were still dripping onto his still dirty clothes. “You know, you can wash your clothes too.” Aaron joked as he eyed the man’s outfit, which was littered with holes and crudely sewn mismatched-fabric. The only thing in decent condition was the leather vest which hung around shoulders.

Daryl rolled his eyes at him and gruffed out, “Thanks for the advice.” before taking the Tupperware from Aaron’s hands and turning his back on him to walk inside his trailer, leaving the door wide open; Aaron took this as an invitation to follow him inside.

“Maggie don’t want me in the house. And there’s no washing machine in the trailer.” The older man simply explained over his hunched shoulders.

“Ain't had time to grab out the washing board to take down the stream, neither,” he said sarcastically as he threw himself onto the built-in seating unit, ripping open the lid to see what was inside.

Aaron felt his brows rise as he watched the man devour the sandwiches, hardly even chewing, like it was the first food he had in days or even weeks. It probably was. Aaron instantly regretted not making him more when Daryl was only left with crumbs and the mayonnaise which he was in the process of licking off his fingers.

“I’ll tell you what; if you give me your clothes, I can clean them for you myself,” Aaron suddenly found himself offering. The redneck squinted at him, slowly lowering his digits from his mouth so they would rest on the table, “Why?” he asked sceptically.

“Why not?” Aaron just shrugged good-naturedly, “Besides, you’ll probably need some clothes to wear when you’re working, that isn't already falling apart, I can give you some of my own until you can go into town and buy your own. Might be a little bit long on you, though.” he grinned.

“Why?” the redneck asked again, “Why you bein’ so nice? You don’t owe me nothin’...ain’t working for you.” Aaron felt his heart plummet at his tone, it was like he couldn't even fathom someone offering him basic kindness without offering something else in return. “What’s your angle? Whatcha want from me?” Daryl’s voice rose a little while questioning him, until… “‘cept,” wary eyes turned suggestive as he trailed Aaron’s body.

“Oh, nooo, no. No.” Aaron rushed out, face burning when he understood the insinuation of Daryl’s words. “I don’t want anything like that,” he reassured him, “I don’t want anything from you at all. Not to say you are not attractive or anything but... No. It’s just some food and clothes. There is no angle, I promise.” Daryl’s posture seemed to smoothen out as he assured him.

“But, why you bein’ all nice and shit if that ain’t it?” Aaron’s heart broke at how confused he sounded in that moment, sighing deeply he sat at the other side of the built-in seating area.

“Look, I know from experience, how shitty it feels when people to treat you like an outsider… I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know if I can trust you or even if I will,” He paused, trying to look him deep in the eyes, “but, I don’t want to make the mistake of not even giving you a chance.” he smiled sadly as Daryl avoided his gaze and chewed on his nail.

“Besides, you and I will be working side by side pretty often, I’d like to get to know you. Okay?” The other made a small nod, eyes still on the table. “Okay.” Aaron smiled.

“So... would you like me to wash your clothes or ?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said softly after a long moment, mumbling the words around his thumb,

“Great!” Aaron beamed.

Daryl stood up from the table and walked a few steps over to the bed, grabbing onto his small pack of belongings and bringing them tightly to his chest. “Thanks,” he said as he gingerly handed it over to Aarons awaiting hands.

“No problem, I’ll get these back to you tomorrow and I’ll bring you some food later tonight. It’s my turn to cook and let me tell you, it’s some serious spaghetti.” The redneck snorted.

“Sure, whatever, man.”

“Okay, later.” Aaron casually reached out to pat his arm in goodbye, the man looked dumbfounded at the touch but did not pull away.


	7. Paul

Paul found Aaron in the laundry, pulling wet clothes from the washing machine and putting them into the dryer. He leaned against the frame of the door, feeling utterly transfixed by the scene before him. The taller man was dancing around the room and swaying his hips to an unknown beat, humming to himself softly, he was clearly enjoying the rhythm of the chore. 

Paul felt his heart lift at the scene. It was so endearingly domestic, while also being coupled with goofy way Aaron moved his body, that he couldn't help but smile. The beginnings of a laugh threatened to escape his lips when Aaron did a little twirl but he pushed it down, he might be an asshole sometimes but right now he didn’t feel like making the other man embarrassed for having little fun.

Paul composed a straight face and knocked on the wooden frame, “Hey Aaron, are you in here?” he called out. 

“Oh hey!” Aaron yelped as he spun around in surprise, somehow looking more sheepish than a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“Hey, Paul repeated, shoving his hands in his pockets, “What are you up to?”  

Aaron's shoulders relaxed at his calm introduction, “Oh, you know, just some laundry,” he replied cheekily. He studied Paul for a second and grinned raising his eyebrows, “Actually can you pass me the rest of the clothes in that duffle bag?”

“Yeah sure, I -”

The dank odour of unwashed clothes mixed with sweat, muck and wet-dog filled his nostrils and made him gag reflexivity. Not to mention the dried blood stains which were smeared into them, almost making him drop the bundle in shock.

He rushed over to the washing machine and dunked all the items in at once, not even bothering to peel the fabric apart.

Aaron threw his head back and let out a guttural laugh, the hand holding the washing powder shook violently while the other convulsed on his stomach. 

Paul desperately tried to keep a stern face at the slightly older man but his lips just couldn’t help but twitch upwards at the boyish giggles that from Aaron’s mouth when he tried to control himself.

“That’s payback for scaring me before. You little ninja!” Aaron accused weakly, his voice breathless as his hand coming up to wipe away a tear at the corner of his eye.

Paul gasped with mock offence, his voice pleading for his innocence, “You have no proof that I deliberately tried to scare you!” 

Aaron just shook his head and grinned at his dramatics, pouring the powder over the dirty clothes. Paul watched him as he closed the lid and pressed the buttons to start up the machine, the sound of rushing water soon drifted up the hose.

“I gotta say, I hope these are not yours or else they would sure as hell change my opinion of both you and Gracie.”              

“Oh no, we can’t have that now can we?” Aaron smirked, “But thankfully no. Let me tell you it's been a real fight to get those stains out of that last load. I haven’t had this much trouble since Grace was a baby and had a tendency to spontaneously projectile vomit all over me.” He made a wide gesture to his chest and stomach. “The worst was when she had just eaten applesauce, I am still not sure if it was psychological torture or what... but no matter how many washes the smell was still there.” 

Aaron shuddered at the memory and then looked a tiny bit sheepish, “Sorry you probably don’t want to hear about my all my parenting stories. Feel free to tell me to shut up, I know I go on a bit of a ramble.”

“No. It’s fine, real-” Paul tried to say but Aaron cut him off with a wave. “It’s all good. The clothes, they belong to Daryl, I offered to clean them for him.” 

Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise, “The Drifter? That’s really...nice. Of you. Nice of you to offer.” 

Aaron combed his hands through those soft looking curls, looking put on the spot, “Yeah, it’s... whatever. He needs clothes so he can work and Maggie doesn’t want him in the house, so I just thought I might as well help out,” he shrugged with a bashful smile and shifted his weight from one foot to another. 

“Hey, I’m making spaghetti tonight. Would you like to help?"


End file.
